Page 4 of The Gambler

he added to me, "you ought to be ashamed of yourself for

  traducing your own country!"

  "I beg pardon," I said. "Yet it would be difficult to say

  which is the worst of the two--Russian ineptitude or the German

  method of growing rich through honest toil."

  "What an extraordinary idea," cried the General.

  "And what a RUSSIAN idea!" added the Frenchman.

  I smiled, for I was rather glad to have a quarrel with them.

  "I would rather live a wandering life in tents," I cried,

  "than bow the knee to a German idol!"

  "To WHAT idol?" exclaimed the General, now seriously angry.

  "To the German method of heaping up riches. I have not been

  here very long, but I can tell you that what I have seen and

  verified makes my Tartar blood boil. Good Lord! I wish for no

  virtues of that kind. Yesterday I went for a walk of about ten

  versts; and, everywhere I found that things were even as we read

  of them in good German picture-books -- that every house has its

  'Fater,' who is horribly beneficent and extraordinarily

  honourable. So honourable is he that it is dreadful to have

  anything to do with him; and I cannot bear people of that sort.

  Each such 'Fater' has his family, and in the evenings they

  read improving books aloud. Over their roof-trees there murmur

  elms and chestnuts; the sun has sunk to his rest; a stork is

  roosting on the gable; and all is beautifully poetic and

  touching. Do not be angry, General. Let me tell you something

  that is even more touching than that. I can remember how, of an

  evening, my own father, now dead, used to sit under the lime

  trees in his little garden, and to read books aloud to myself

  and my mother. Yes, I know how things ought to be done. Yet

  every German family is bound to slavery and to submission to its

  'Fater.' They work like oxen, and amass wealth like Jews.

  Suppose the 'Fater' has put by a certain number of gulden

  which he hands over to his eldest son, in order that the said

  son may acquire a trade or a small plot of land. Well, one

  result is to deprive the daughter of a dowry, and so leave her

  among the unwedded. For the same reason, the parents will have

  to sell the younger son into bondage or the ranks of the army,

  in order that he may earn more towards the family capital. Yes,

  such things ARE done, for I have been making inquiries on the

  subject. It is all done out of sheer rectitude--out of a

  rectitude which is magnified to the point of the younger son

  believing that he has been RIGHTLY sold, and that it is simply

  idyllic for the victim to rejoice when he is made over into

  pledge. What more have I to tell? Well, this--that matters bear

  just as hardly upon the eldest son. Perhaps he has his Gretchen

  to whom his heart is bound; but he cannot marry her, for the

  reason that he has not yet amassed sufficient gulden. So, the

  pair wait on in a mood of sincere and virtuous expectation, and

  smilingly deposit themselves in pawn the while. Gretchen's

  cheeks grow sunken, and she begins to wither; until at last,

  after some twenty years, their substance has multiplied, and

  sufficient gulden have been honourably and virtuously

  accumulated. Then the 'Fater' blesses his forty-year-old heir and

  the thirty-five-year-old Gretchen with the sunken bosom and the

  scarlet nose; after which he bursts, into tears, reads the pair

  a lesson on morality, and dies. In turn the eldest son becomes a

  virtuous 'Fater,' and the old story begins again. In fifty or

  sixty years' time the grandson of the original 'Fater' will

  have amassed a considerable sum; and that sum he will hand over

  to, his son, and the latter to HIS son, and so on for several

  generations; until at length there will issue a Baron

  Rothschild, or a 'Hoppe and Company,' or the devil knows what!

  Is it not a beautiful spectacle--the spectacle of a century or

  two of inherited labour, patience, intellect, rectitude,

  character, perseverance, and calculation, with a stork sitting

  on the roof above it all? What is more; they think there can

  never be anything better than this; wherefore, from their point

  of view they begin to judge the rest of the world, and to

  censure all who are at fault--that is to say, who are not exactly

  like themselves. Yes, there you have it in a nutshell. For my

  own part, I would rather grow fat after the Russian manner, or

  squander my whole substance at roulette. I have no wish to be

  'Hoppe and Company' at the end of five generations. I want the

  money for MYSELF, for in no way do I look upon my personality

  as necessary to, or meet to be given over to, capital. I may be

  wrong, but there you have it. Those are MY views."

  "How far you may be right in what you have said I do not know,"

  remarked the General moodily; "but I DO know that you are

  becoming an insufferable farceur whenever you are given the

  least chance."

  As usual, he left his sentence unfinished. Indeed, whenever he

  embarked upon anything that in the least exceeded the limits of

  daily small-talk, he left unfinished what he was saying. The

  Frenchman had listened to me contemptuously, with a slight

  protruding of his eyes; but, he could not have understood very

  much of my harangue. As for Polina, she had looked on with

  serene indifference. She seemed to have heard neither my voice

  nor any other during the progress of the meal.

  V

  Yes, she had been extraordinarily meditative. Yet, on leaving

  the table, she immediately ordered me to accompany her for a

  walk. We took the children with us, and set out for the fountain

  in the Park.

  I was in such an irritated frame of mind that in rude and abrupt

  fashion I blurted out a question as to "why our Marquis de

  Griers had ceased to accompany her for strolls, or to speak to

  her for days together."

  "Because he is a brute," she replied in rather a curious way.

  It was the first time that I had heard her speak so of De

  Griers: consequently, I was momentarily awed into silence by this

  expression of resentment.

  "Have you noticed, too, that today he is by no means on good

  terms with the General?" I went on.

  "Yes-- and I suppose you want to know why," she replied with dry

  captiousness. "You are aware, are you not, that the General is

  mortgaged to the Marquis, with all his property? Consequently,

  if the General's mother does not die, the Frenchman will become

  the absolute possessor of everything which he now holds only in

  pledge."

  "Then it is really the case that everything is mortgaged? I

  have heard rumours to that effect, but was unaware how far they

  might be true."

  "Yes, they ARE true. What then?"

  "Why, it will be a case of 'Farewell, Mlle. Blanche,'" I

  remarked; "for in such an event she would never become Madame

  General. Do you know, I believe the old man is so much in love

  with her that he will shoot himself if she should throw him

  over. At his age it is a dangerous thing to fall in love."


  "Yes, something, I believe, WILL happen to him," assented

  Polina thoughtfully.

  "And what a fine thing it all is!" I continued. "Could anything

  be more abominable than the way in which she has agreed to marry

  for money alone? Not one of the decencies has

  been observed; the whole affair has taken place without the

  least ceremony. And as for the grandmother, what could be more

  comical, yet more dastardly, than the sending of telegram after

  telegram to know if she is dead? What do you think of it, Polina

  Alexandrovna?"

  "Yes, it is very horrible," she interrupted with a shudder.

  "Consequently, I am the more surprised that YOU should be so

  cheerful. What are YOU so pleased about? About the fact that you

  have gone and lost my money?"

  "What? The money that you gave me to lose? I told you I should

  never win for other people--least of all for you. I obeyed you

  simply because you ordered me to; but you must not blame me for

  the result. I warned you that no good would ever come of it. You

  seem much depressed at having lost your money. Why do you need

  it so greatly?"

  "Why do YOU ask me these questions?"

  "Because you promised to explain matters to me. Listen. I am

  certain that, as soon as ever I 'begin to play for myself' (and I

  still have 120 gulden left), I shall win. You can then take of

  me what you require."

  She made a contemptuous grimace.

  "You must not be angry with me," I continued, "for making such

  a proposal. I am so conscious of being only a nonentity in your

  eyes that you need not mind accepting money from me. A gift from

  me could not possibly offend you. Moreover, it was I who lost

  your gulden."

  She glanced at me, but, seeing that I was in an irritable,

  sarcastic mood, changed the subject.

  "My affairs cannot possibly interest you," she said. Still,

  if you DO wish to know, I am in debt. I borrowed some

  money, and must pay it back again. I have a curious, senseless

  idea that I am bound to win at the gaming-tables. Why I think so

  I cannot tell, but I do think so, and with some assurance.

  Perhaps it is because of that assurance that I now find myself

  without any other resource."

  "Or perhaps it is because it is so NECESSARY for you to win. It

  is like a drowning man catching at a straw. You yourself will

  agree that, unless he were drowning he would not mistake a straw

  for the trunk of a tree."

  Polina looked surprised.

  "What?" she said. "Do not you also hope something from it?

  Did you not tell me again and again, two weeks ago, that you

  were certain of winning at roulette if you played here? And did

  you not ask me not to consider you a fool for doing so? Were you

  joking? You cannot have been, for I remember that you spoke with

  a gravity which forbade the idea of your jesting."

  "True," I replied gloomily. "I always felt certain that I

  should win. Indeed, what you say makes me ask myself--Why have my

  absurd, senseless losses of today raised a doubt in my mind?

  Yet I am still positive that, so soon as ever I begin to play

  for myself, I shall infallibly win."

  "And why are you so certain?"

  "To tell the truth, I do not know. I only know that I must

  win--that it is the one resource I have left. Yes, why do I feel

  so assured on the point?"

  "Perhaps because one cannot help winning if one is fanatically

  certain of doing so."

  "Yet I dare wager that you do not think me capable of serious

  feeling in the matter?"

  "I do not care whether you are so or not," answered Polina with

  calm indifference. "Well, since you ask me, I DO doubt your

  ability to take anything seriously. You are capable of worrying,

  but not deeply. You are too ill-regulated and unsettled a person

  for that. But why do you want money? Not a single one of the reasons

  which you have given can be looked upon as serious."

  "By the way," I interrupted, "you say you want to pay off a

  debt. It must be a large one. Is it to the Frenchman?"

  "What do you mean by asking all these questions? You are very

  clever today. Surely you are not drunk?"

  "You know that you and I stand on no ceremony, and that

  sometimes I put to you very plain questions. I repeat that I am

  your, slave--and slaves cannot be shamed or offended."

  "You talk like a child. It is always possible to comport

  oneself with dignity. If one has a quarrel it ought to elevate

  rather than to degrade one."

  "A maxim straight from the copybook! Suppose I CANNOT comport

  myself with dignity. By that I mean that, though I am a man of

  self-respect, I am unable to carry off a situation properly. Do

  you know the reason? It is because we Russians are too richly and

  multifariously gifted to be able at once to find the proper mode

  of expression. It is all a question of mode. Most of us are so

  bounteously endowed with intellect as to require also a spice of

  genius to choose the right form of behaviour. And genius is

  lacking in us for the reason that so little genius at all

  exists. It belongs only to the French--though a few other

  Europeans have elaborated their forms so well as to be able to

  figure with extreme dignity, and yet be wholly undignified

  persons. That is why, with us, the mode is so all-important. The

  Frenchman may receive an insult-- a real, a venomous insult: yet,

  he will not so much as frown. But a tweaking of the nose he

  cannot bear, for the reason that such an act is an infringement

  of the accepted, of the time-hallowed order of decorum. That is

  why our good ladies are so fond of Frenchmen--the Frenchman's

  manners, they say, are perfect! But in my opinion there is no

  such thing as a Frenchman's manners. The Frenchman is only a

  bird--the coq gaulois. At the same time, as I am not a woman, I

  do not properly understand the question. Cocks may be excellent

  birds. If I am wrong you must stop me. You ought to stop and

  correct me more often when I am speaking to you, for I am too

  apt to say everything that is in my head.

  "You see, I have lost my manners. I agree that I have none, nor yet

  any dignity. I will tell you why. I set no store upon such things.

  Everything in me has undergone a cheek. You know the reason. I have not a

  single human thought in my head. For a long while I have been

  ignorant of what is going on in the world--here or in Russia. I

  have been to Dresden, yet am completely in the dark as to what

  Dresden is like. You know the cause of my obsession. I have no

  hope now, and am a mere cipher in your eyes; wherefore, I tell

  you outright that wherever I go I see only you--all the rest is a

  matter of indifference.

  "Why or how I have come to love you I do not know. It may be that

  you are not altogether fair to look upon. Do you know, I am ignorant

  even as to what your face is like. In all probability, too, your heart

  is not comely, and it is possible that your mind is wholly ignoble."

  "And because you do n
ot believe in my nobility of soul you

  think to purchase me with money?" she said.

  "WHEN have I thought to do so?" was my reply.

  "You are losing the thread of the argument. If you do not wish

  to purchase me, at all events you wish to purchase my respect."

  "Not at all. I have told you that I find it difficult to

  explain myself. You are hard upon me. Do not be angry at my

  chattering. You know why you ought not to be angry with me--that

  I am simply an imbecile. However, I do not mind if you ARE

  angry. Sitting in my room, I need but to think of you, to

  imagine to myself the rustle of your dress, and at once I fall

  almost to biting my hands. Why should you be angry with me?

  Because I call myself your slave? Revel, I pray you, in my

  slavery--revel in it. Do you know that sometimes I could kill

  you?--not because I do not love you, or am jealous of you, but,

  because I feel as though I could simply devour you... You are

  laughing!"

  "No, I am not," she retorted. "But I order you, nevertheless,

  to be silent."

  She stopped, well nigh breathless with anger. God knows, she may

  not have been a beautiful woman, yet I loved to see her come to

  a halt like this, and was therefore, the more fond of arousing

  her temper. Perhaps she divined this, and for that very reason

  gave way to rage. I said as much to her.

  "What rubbish!" she cried with a shudder.

  "I do not care," I continued. "Also, do you know that it is

  not safe for us to take walks together? Often I have a feeling

  that I should like to strike you, to disfigure you, to strangle

  you. Are you certain that it will never come to that? You are

  driving me to frenzy. Am I afraid of a scandal, or of your

  anger? Why should I fear your anger? I love without hope, and

  know that hereafter I shall love you a thousand times more. If

  ever I should kill you I should have to kill myself too. But I

  shall put off doing so as long as possible, for I wish to

  continue enjoying the unbearable pain which your coldness gives

  me. Do you know a very strange thing? It is that, with every

  day, my love for you increases--though that would seem to be

  almost an impossibility. Why should I not become a fatalist?

  Remember how, on the third day that we ascended the

  Shlangenberg, I was moved to whisper in your ear: 'Say but the

  word, and I will leap into the abyss.' Had you said it, I should

  have leapt. Do you not believe me?"

  "What stupid rubbish!" she cried.

  "I care not whether it be wise or stupid," I cried in return.

  "I only know that in your presence I must speak, speak, speak.

  Therefore, I am speaking. I lose all conceit when I am with you,

  and everything ceases to matter."

  "Why should I have wanted you to leap from the Shlangenberg?"

  she said drily, and (I think) with wilful offensiveness. "THAT

  would have been of no use to me."

  "Splendid!" I shouted. "I know well that you must have used

  the words 'of no use' in order to crush me. I can see through

  you. 'Of no use,' did you say? Why, to give pleasure is ALWAYS

  of use; and, as for barbarous, unlimited power--even if it be only

  over a fly--why, it is a kind of luxury. Man is a despot by

  nature, and loves to torture. You, in particular, love to do so."

  I remember that at this moment she looked at me in a peculiar

  way. The fact is that my face must have been expressing all the

  maze of senseless, gross sensations which were seething within

  me. To this day I can remember, word for word, the conversation

  as I have written it down. My eyes were suffused with blood, and

  the foam had caked itself on my lips. Also, on my honour I swear

  that, had she bidden me cast myself from the summit of the

  Shlangenberg, I should have done it. Yes, had she bidden me in

  jest, or only in contempt and with a spit in my face, I should

  have cast myself down.

  "Oh no! Why so? I believe you," she said, but in such a

  manner--in the manner of which, at times, she was a mistress--and

  with such a note of disdain and viperish arrogance in her tone,